Carla glared with that wretched look she always set aside just for me. An ear-splitting cough rent through the air and she sputtered out a glob of blood and mucus while staring daggers in my direction. She’d given me that look every day since our marriage in September of 1880. I resented her that look.

‘It’s alright dear,’ I said, tenderly brushing her dark hair back behind her ears and wiping the blood away with a cloth. ‘It’ll all be over soon.’

‘You sick-cough-sadistic-cough-bastard,’ she growled.

I stifled a laugh and tried to look neutral as my wife struggled through her last breaths, her body helpless against the poisons I’d fed her at dinner. Soon, I’d call for the doctor, who would be flummoxed at such a case of tuberculosis. He’d comfort the doting husband, they all would, even as I collected on Carla’s inheritance. I’d been practicing my crying for weeks.

‘Now, Carla, sweetheart, there’s no need to exert yourself on my account. No one is here to listen to your bitter rants. No one will even care that you’re gone.’

‘They’ll see you for what you are,’ she whispered, her hand gripping my arm like a claw. ‘They’ll see right through you.’ She fell back, eyes closed, fighting to suck in air. With one last giant breath, she looked right at me and spewed forth a mass of blood and phlegm directly into my face.

Fair enough.

XXXX

The doctor arrived, hemming, hawing, and comforting me in my time of need. When all was said and done, and Carla’s body was removed from the house, the doctor turned to shake my hand. He froze, frowning at my face, which I’d already washed clear of Carla’s bodily fluids.

‘You’re looking very pale,’ the doctor pointed out.

I waved away his concern, explaining I needed time alone to process the loss of my love. He reluctantly agreed and left.

XXXX

It was so bright. I woke in the morning to the strange sensation of everything being so glaringly blindingly light. As hard as I closed my eyes, that light didn’t go away.

I stumbled to Carla’s vanity mirror, expecting to see dark circles under my eyes from a night of joyful imbibing, but that was not the case.

No. The thing that looked back at me in the mirror was not me. It was grotesque, throbbing veins and a gray skull shockingly visible in my reflection. My teeth grinned through transparent lips, my eyes flashed behind clear eyelids.

Every vein, every bone, vibrant and visible behind clear skin and sinew.

‘Oh god!’ I screamed, pulling down the collar of my shirt to reveal my violently beating heart behind translucent skin.

I swear I could hear Carla cackling in the distance, her wretched little voice mocking me.

‘Now they’ll know. Now they’ll see,’ she whispered from the ether.

Fair enough, my dear.

Fair enough.